


We know when you'll die, so I'll make sure to die with you.

by Marksfabulousbutt



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Post-Canon, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27978357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marksfabulousbutt/pseuds/Marksfabulousbutt
Summary: Sniper and Scout had both died a few faithful days apart. But they begun to live again on the same. Not in the same way before they had life taken and restored, and not ever since experiencing death.
Relationships: Scout/Sniper (Team Fortress 2)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	We know when you'll die, so I'll make sure to die with you.

**Author's Note:**

> GOD. You cannot tell me that knowing your death date would not fuck you up. You cannot tell me that knowing you will die the next day to an unknown cause, would not. Hurt. Would not tear your sanity apart. And maybe it would give you the freedom to do whatever you feel like. But after the thrill. You will. Start thinking. I can't tell whats scarier. Knowing you'll die someday. Or knowing your death date grows ever closer.

Sniper flinches when Scout drops down, swinging his leg around the other side of his hips, sitting limply in his lap. He has glossy eyes, like he's been crying. Sniper starts to opens his mouth, trying to ask what's wrong, worry filling him at the behavior exhibited, but Scout shakes his head, meaning he didn't want to talk, didn't want to hear the other's voice as his fingers reached for the top button of Sniper's shirt. 

There's hesitation in Scout's hands, tense for a brief moment as they stared at each other. Sniper can't stop looking at Scout's face, who flicks his eyes down when Sniper doesn't shake him off to start working on the buttons. His face looks so old, the deep dark colours under his eyes matches his own. He can't remember the last time he saw Scout smile. Can't remember his own smile as he looks down to his unbuttoned shirt. 

The scar that ran down in a Y pattern was becoming more and more exposed, and Sniper flinched even harder when a careful thumb ran over his left pectoral muscle, running on the line that had been mostly hidden by his shirt. It only clicked when the combination of both Scout's weariness, and his own anxiety and worries for his boyfriend, finally connected the thin strings to two points. And all by the second time the thumb rolled over the faded, connected lines. 

He was making sure Sniper was still alive. 

That Scout, himself, was still alive. 

He choked on his breath, fought to keep the tears in when Scout leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tip of the upside down triangle. He could feel the dampness of Scout's cheeks, as he moved up and pressed four more kisses to the two points near his collar bones, and on the middle lines of his pecs. The intimacy of their position and partnership, the placing of the scars that ran down the most sensitive places -especially the memories of what had happened- and his roller coster of emotions that was being wrung out of him was forcing him to an edge of instability, overwhelming him with harsh emotions he tried to keep at bay. He hadn't expected to cry today, but he doesn't ever really expect to cry anyday at all, after his death. Their death. But he still feels the ugly tears as they brim his eyes, feeling the few fat droplets that escaped roll down his cheeks to his neck and chin. 

There was more scars along his biceps, a jagged line that ran further down the left side of his chest and stomach than the Y pattern Medic cut into him, and another one one that curved down to his pelvis from his waist. But the Y. The Y was his saving grace. What Medic used to bring him back to life. He thought of the scar that Scout had. The one that had spilled his organs out of his abdominal sack, the blood that clotted on the ground. It was much biggers than his. The feelings were lost there, and by some miracle, he wasn't completely paralyzed. 

Sniper could feel Scout's lips lingering, pressing closed mouth kisses on a stitch, one that was where you placed your hand over your heart. He was feeling the dull pulse under his lips, and more tears dripped down their faces, everytime Scout's eyes moved he felt the flutter of water droplets on his chest. It was all he could do, suddenly grabbing Scout's jaw gently, pulling him up, closer to his face and pressing an urgent kiss against his lips, breath shaking as he kissed those pink lines. 

Scout was crying again, arms draping over Sniper's shoulder's as they kissed harder. His tears dripped on the other's cheeks, and Sniper's stung his eyes, but he couldn't be bothered. "You're alive." Scout said, sobbing against the other's lips. "You as well." Sniper whispered back. 

He moved the shirt over Scout's waist, exposing more of it the to the chill of the air, his fingers dragged along the numb, light-coloured skin, feeling the course scar that had cinched it's self together by some godly act. He got the message of what Sniper wanted, and Scout pulled back enough to wring it over his head, going right back to pressing their lips together, in awkward, closed and opened mouth kisses, their difficulty breathing during crying being the main cause. 

Sniper shifted, getting enough momentum to put Scout on his back, pressing kisses to his warm lips, against his warm jaw. Sniper's lips were probably ice to him, his body not perserving heat as well as it did before, but Scout made no comment on it, enjoying the feeling of the cold touch, an arm slung over his eyes, as tender kisses assaulted his chest, dragging along his stomach, until finally pressed against his hip bones, and when Scout couldn't feel the cold lips anymore, he moved his arm, eyes still wet. Sniper lingered at the tip of the slash, much like Scout had did, but this was the entering of the knife, and he'd have to flip Scout over to touch the exit as it skirted past his spine. 

A Spy bot had missed it's target, but still got an impressive hit. One that left Scout growing cold. New tears formed on his eyes, after having to see Spy hold his son like that, it hurt him. No parent, regardless of knowing relationship or not, should hold their child as they died. 

Sniper felt a hand touch his neck, fingers running through his hair briefly before it tugged on the shirt that still hung off his shoulder. He moved up quickly, pressing a kiss to the other's jaw, then kissing Scout again, almost like the world was ending. Might as well be. He had to hold the other's arm away from his eyes when he pulled back to look at his lover. "We're both alive." Scout sniffed, nodding his head. "We're alive." He whispered, so weakly, and Sniper pressed another heartaching kiss to his lips. 

He'd protect this poor soul until his death. Maybe they'd die together. Maybe December 4th, 1987 was his death date, too. And if it wasn't? He was going to make it his death date. If it was the last thing he did. Which it would be. He couldn't live without Scout. The only other person who could possibly understand what being dead was like. 

Medic, though having died, wouldn't ever understand. He was much too desensitize. 

It was just Sniper and Scout. Friends who had to hide growing affections in the beginning, in which spilled into something like love. They think it's love. It could very much be codependency on both their parts perhaps. But they couldn't be bothered. Couldn't care enough as they were there for each other through every menial day tasks that they were assigned, picking up the pieces in their skewed lives. They stayed there kissing, so long and soft it may have been hours or maybe even a few minutes as Sniper's back had begun to protest it's strained position, and he had to pull away. The tears had long stopped coming, and soon enough exhaustion set in. So much so, that Sniper pulled off the remainders of his shirt and manuevered them into a more comfortable position on the bed, chest to chest, with Scout digging his face into Sniper's neck and shoulder. 

Sniper tugged a blanket over them, and as he listened to the soft breathing get even softer, sleep taking Scout much more quickly than Sniper, he couldn't help but think about what made Scout react in such a way. Maybe it was the dread of knowing his time was coming, soon enough. Maybe he thought about Spy again, who had died a few months back to lung cancer. Maybe he thought of how his mother was following suit in her numbered days, Scout's steady income of money more than enough to continue her life well into elderly. But not enough to save what she'll die from. 

Scout truely believes that his mother will die heartbrokened before any other illness can claim her. Spy's death most definitely helped that theory along. 

And as he though about it. 

Death was something they used to tread on lightly. Not even thinking about it once, no consequences for their actions. But after they died -some forced back into their bodies- they weren't the same. The next death could be their last. And Scout, who knew his death date, but not the cause. It left him reeling. He was supposed to be accepting when it came. But the years changed by fast. 1981. 1982. It was only a matter of time. 

Sniper inhaled sharply, eyes darting to rhe calendar as realization dawned on him. Maybe Scout's death date was tomorrow, closer than he had realized, practically choking on his lungs when he couldn't see the date. It couldn't be December yet, could it? Sniper pulled the sleeping man closer to his body. Time wouldn't have gotten away from him that fast for... could it have? 

New tears spilled over. Whatever was brought tomorrow he'd go with it. A sense of dread filled him, but was quickly patched. If their death date was years later, he thought of how to fill the time. Maybe they'll travel. Maybe they'll find a home and adopt abandoned kids. Scout was always fond of children. He didn't mind them. Whatever laid in the new day -even if perhaps his anxiety induced worrying was right- it didn't and wouldn't bother him. 

He knew he'd follow Scout to the ends of the Earth, 

and to the afterlife, as well.


End file.
